An overcast September evening, just at nightfall, saw beneath its drooping eyelids Mrs. Sparsit glide out of her carriage, pass down the wooden steps of the little station into a stony road, cross it into a green lane, and become hidden in a summer-growth of leaves and branches. One or two late birds sleepily chirping in their nests, and a bat heavily crossing and recrossing her, and the reek of her own tread in the thick dust that felt like velvet, were all Mrs. Sparsit heard or saw until she very softly closed a gate.
She went up to the house, keeping within the shrubbery, and went round it, peeping between the leaves at the lower windows. Most of them were open, as they usually were in such warm weather, but there were no lights yet, and all was silent. She tried the garden with no better effect. She thought of the wood, and stole towards it, heedless of long grass and briers: of worms, snails, and slugs, and all the creeping things that be. With her dark eyes and her hook nose warily in advance of her, Mrs. Sparsit softly crushed her way through the thick undergrowth, so intent upon her object that she probably would have done no less, if the wood had been a wood of adders like an oriental dancer, put his tambourine on his head..
Hark!
The smaller birds might have tumbled out of their nests, fascinated by the glittering of Mrs. Sparsits eyes in the gloom, as she stopped and listened.Low voices close at hand. His voice and hers. The appointment was a device to keep the brother away! There they were yonder, by the felled tree.Bending low among the dewy grass, Mrs. Sparsit advanced closer to them. She drew herself up, and stood behind a tree, like Robinson Crusoe in his ambuscade against the savages; so near to them that at a spring, and that no great one, she could have touched them both. He was , and had not shown himself at the house. He had come on horseback, and must have passed through the neighbouring fields; for his horse was tied to the

meadow side of the fence, within a few paces.My dearest love, said he, what could I do? Knowing you were alone, was it possible that I could stay away?
You may hang your head, to make yourself the more attractive; I dont know what they see in you when you hold it up, thought Mrs. Sparsit; but you little think, my dearest love, whose eyes are on you!
That she hung her head, was certain. She urged him to go away, she commanded him to go away; but she neither turned her face to him, nor raised it. Yet it was remarkable that she sat as still as ever the amiable woman in ambuscade had seen her sit, at any period in her life. Her hands rested in one another, like the hands of a statue; and even her manner of speaking was not hurried.
My dear child, said Harthouse; Mrs. Sparsit saw with delight that his arm embraced her; will you not bear with my society for a little while?
Not here.